The Endless Note

“A guy walked into a little corner store with a shotgun and demanded all
of the cash from the cash drawer.
After the cashier put the cash in a bag, the robber saw a bottle of
Scotch that he wanted behind the counter on the shelf. He told the
cashier to put it in the bag as well, but the cashier refused and said,
‘Because I don’t believe you are over 21.’ The robber said he was, but
the clerk still refused to give it to him because she didn’t believe
him. At this point, the robber took his driver’s licence out of his
wallet and gave it to the clerk.
The clerk looked it over and agreed that the man was in fact over 21 and
she put the Scotch in the bag. The robber then ran from the store with
his loot.
The cashier promptly called the police and gave the name and address of
the robber that she got off the licence. They arrested the robber two
hours later.”

https://thehelplessdancer.files.wordpress.com/2009/11/04-idiot-wind.mp3
Someone’s got it in for me, they’re planting stories in the press
Whoever it is I wish they’d cut it out but when they will I can only guess.
They say I shot a man named Gray and took his wife to Italy,
She inherited a million bucks and when she died it came to me.
I can’t help it if I’m lucky.

People see me all the time and they just can’t remember how to act
Their minds are filled with big ideas, images and distorted facts.
Even you, yesterday you had to ask me where it was at,
I couldn’t believe after all these years, you didn’t know me better than that
Sweet lady.

Idiot wind, blowing every time you move your mouth,
Blowing down the backroads headin’ south.
Idiot wind, blowing every time you move your teeth,
You’re an idiot, babe.
It’s a wonder that you still know how to breathe.

I ran into the fortune-teller, who said beware of lightning that might strike
I haven’t known peace and quiet for so long I can’t remember what it’s like.
There’s a lone soldier on the cross, smoke pourin’ out of a boxcar door,
You didn’t know it, you didn’t think it could be done, in the final end he won the wars
After losin’ every battle.

I woke up on the roadside, daydreamin’ ’bout the way things sometimes are
Visions of your chestnut mare shoot through my head and are makin’ me see stars.
You hurt the ones that I love best and cover up the truth with lies.
One day you’ll be in the ditch, flies buzzin’ around your eyes,
Blood on your saddle.

Idiot wind, blowing through the flowers on your tomb,
Blowing through the curtains in your room.
Idiot wind, blowing every time you move your teeth,
You’re an idiot, babe.
It’s a wonder that you still know how to breathe.

It was gravity which pulled us down and destiny which broke us apart
You tamed the lion in my cage but it just wasn’t enough to change my heart.
Now everything’s a little upside down, as a matter of fact the wheels have stopped,
What’s good is bad, what’s bad is good, you’ll find out when you reach the top
You’re on the bottom.

I noticed at the ceremony, your corrupt ways had finally made you blind
I can’t remember your face anymore, your mouth has changed, your eyes
don’t look into mine.
The priest wore black on the seventh day and sat stone-faced while the building
burned.
I waited for you on the running boards, near the cypress trees, while the springtime
turned Slowly into autumn.

Idiot wind, blowing like a circle around my skull,
From the Grand Coulee Dam to the Capitol.
Idiot wind, blowing every time you move your teeth,
You’re an idiot, babe.
It’s a wonder that you still know how to breathe.

I can’t feel you anymore, I can’t even touch the books you’ve read
Every time I crawl past your door, I been wishin’ I was somebody else instead.
Down the highway, down the tracks, down the road to ecstasy,
I followed you beneath the stars, hounded by your memory
And all your ragin’ glory.

I been double-crossed now for the very last time and now I’m finally free,
I kissed goodbye the howling beast on the borderline which separated you from me.
You’ll never know the hurt I suffered nor the pain I rise above,
And I’ll never know the same about you, your holiness or your kind of love,
And it makes me feel so sorry.

Idiot wind, blowing through the buttons of our coats,
Blowing through the letters that we wrote.
Idiot wind, blowing through the dust upon our shelves,
We’re idiots, babe.
It’s a wonder we can even feed ourselves.

Working on a suggestion from his brother, Dylan re-recorded half the songs on Blood on the Tracks, including “Idiot Wind.” The re-recorded versions were radical departures from the original recordings, and “Idiot Wind” saw a tremendous change, including the adding of a full band backing from an essentially solo acoustic recording. The sessions in which he rerecorded these songs took place after the initial pressing of Blood on the Tracks, however, and the session musicians Dylan used were not given credit for their work on the album sleeves.

The Minneapolis version on “Blood on the Tracks” is listed as 7:48 long. The version on the Masterpieces collection is listed as 10:06 long

Even though Dylan claims that the song’s lyrics have no relation to the messy situation of his marriage to Sara Dylan, his son Jakob Dylan has stated in interviews that the record “sounds like my parents talking to each other”.

A raucous live version is included as the closing track to Hard Rain listed as 10.21 long.

Hootie and the Blowfish had a chart-topping hit with “Only Wanna Be With You” in 1994, which included verbatim lines from “Idiot Wind”. They were subsequently sued for use of these lines.

“Early this year, some Boeing employees on the airfield decided to steal
a life raft from one of the 747s. They were successful in getting it out
of the plane and home.
Shortly after they took it for a float on the river, they noticed a
Westpac Rescue Helicopter coming towards them.
It turned out that the chopper was homing in on the emergency locator
beacon that activated when the raft was inflated. They are no longer
employed at Boeing.”

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New plans have emerged to turn the birthplace of blues legend Robert Johnsoninto a museum.

More than seventy years after his death, Robert Johnson remains an alluring enigma. The blues guitarist found little success in his own lifetime, dying relatively unknown at the age of just 27.

However the singer’s music has enjoyed a curious life of its own. Almost immediately recognised as a performer of great power and style, Robert Johnson’s music would become the cornerstone of the blues.

Later covered by both The Rolling Stones and Eric Clapton, the blues singer’s material hints at the mysterious life he led. Frequent references to the Devil gave rise to the legend that he sold his soul.

In the song ‘Crossroads Blues’ Robert Johnson claims that he went down to the crossroads at midnight, selling his soul in exchange for the ability to play guitar. The blues guitarist later died young, either re-claimed by the Devil or poisoned by a jealous husband whose spouse he had seduced.

Now the singer’s birthplace is to be turned into a museum. Robert Johnson was born in 1911 in a well-crafted home built by his stepfather in the Mississippi town of Hazlehurst. That house is now dilapidated, but could be set to be restored in the form of a museum to the singer’s life.

“It’s amazing that after all these years, people still talk about Robert Johnson on the level that they do,” said the bluesman’s grandson, Steven Johnson to Associated Press.

Grammy-winning pianist George Winston is set to headline a benefit concert for the museum. “Everything with Robert is mysterious, but the more we can demystify, we can get down to the truth,” said Winston.